


What's Coming is Already on its Way

by BlackAndBlueCoffee



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Play, Bondage, Choking, Clit Clamp, Cock Warming, Crying, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degradation, Dildos, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, F/M, Face-Fucking, Handcuffs, Impact Play, Kidnapping, Mind Control, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piss kink, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Revenge, Riding, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slapping, Spit As Lube, Vaginal Sex, misogynistic language, piss drinking, unsafe use of sex toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackAndBlueCoffee/pseuds/BlackAndBlueCoffee
Summary: She tries to look around again, this time getting to glance around for a few seconds before the brightness forces her eyes closed.Focus. Focus.She opens her eyes slowly, letting her vision acclimate to her surroundings. She sits up, her musclesaching, God, why does that hurt? She begins to rub the sleep from her eyes, and that’s when she hears it.A voice she was really hoping to never hear again.
Relationships: Joan Bright/Damien
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if I forget to tag anything.

Joan wakes up with an unbearable headache. Her eyes flutter open briefly, but not for long enough to look around, no it’s too bright in here for that.

She rolls over, trying to bury her face deeper into the pillow on the bed. She opens her eyes and catches a glimpse of the sheets she’s laying on top of. She squeezes her eyes shut again after seeing that flash of starch white and curls up, not wanting to see  _ anything _ , except--  _ wait. _

_ White? No, no her sheets are green. _

_ Okay. She’ll open her eyes again. One more look. _

Once again her eyelids flutter open, just long enough to confirm that--  _ yep. No. This definitely isn’t her bed. _

_ Fuck. _

She tries to look around again, this time getting to glance around for a few seconds before the brightness forces her eyes closed.  _ Focus. Focus. _

She opens her eyes slowly, letting her vision acclimate to her surroundings. She sits up, her muscles  _ aching _ , God, why does that hurt? She begins to rub the sleep from her eyes, and that’s when she hears it.

A voice she was  _ really  _ hoping to never hear again.

“Gooood morning, Dr. B. How’d ya sleep?”

“Is this a nightmare,” she asks flatly, trying not to show the fear that’s shooting through her so quickly and so harshly that it  _ hurts. _

“Come on,” he says, smirking. “I know you missed me.”   
  
When she turns to look in the opposite direction, the sight she sees nearly makes her want to throw up. Sitting on the bed on the other side of what she can now recognize as a shitty motel room is none other than  _ Robert Gorham. _

Or whatever he’s going by these days.

“What am I doing here?”

“Catching up with an old friend,” he grins, standing and moving closer to her.

_ “Damien,” _ she seethes through gritted teeth.

“Come on, Dr. B, don’t you wanna know what I’ve been up to?”

She does.

She’s sure that it’s not a natural desire. She’s sure that the version of her that existed a year ago, Dr. Joan Bright, affiliate of the AM who had just gotten her brother back and who was constantly glancing over her shoulder, constantly scouring for any information she could get her hands on-- that Joan would want to know. That Joan would be so overcome with curiosity and with a need to know all that she could so that she could keep everything under control, she would ask of her own volition.

This Joan, however-- Dr. Joan Bright, newly appointed  _ director _ of the AM who has finally learned to give her brother some space and who is trying,  _ really trying, _ to do what makes her happy and not care so much about things that really should be left alone-- she’s not asking of her own volition.

No, she’s asking because the despicable piece of human garbage in front of her  _ wants her to. _

“How have you been, Damien?”

“I’m doing just swell,” he grins. “Got the ability back. In case you couldn’t tell. God, it’s been too long.”

“I could tell, actually,” she spits bitterly. “Feels like you’ve been… practicing, as well.”   
  


“So glad you noticed,” he says, that smug tone in her voice making her want to throttle him.

“Damien. Why am I here?”

“I’m honestly not very sure,” he hums thoughtfully. “I just wanted you to know that you weren’t  _ getting rid of me, _ not that easily.”

“Can you tell me  _ how _ you got me here? Or is there a melodramatic and vague answer for that one too?”

“God, you’re fucking annoying, you know that? I drugged you.”

_ “How?”  _ she repeats, glaring at him.

“I followed you around for a few days. Figured out where you get your coffee in the morning and, well,  _ convinced _ the barista to slip in a special ingredient. Followed you till you passed out, got you in the car, and… viola.”

“And you did all of this because?”

_ “Because _ you’re a cold-hearted manipulative bitch. You think that just because I lost my ability you won. That you could treat me like shit, ship me off to the AM--”

“I was trying to  _ help you, _ Damien--”   
  


_ “Bullshit,”  _ he shoots back. “This is me proving that  _ I _ am the one in control here. And I always will be, got that?”

“That’s it? You kidnapped me to prove a point? Damien, are you aware how deranged--”

“Maybe I’m not done! Maybe I’ve got… plans, or something. God, you’re even being a bitch now.”

“Excuse me for reacting poorly to being drugged and held against my will. I’m sure if you really had an issue with me pointing out how  _ insane _ you sound, I wouldn’t be able to do it, now would I?”

“You think you’re so fucking smart,” he snarls

“Well, someone in this room needs to be doing  _ some _ thinking. Do you have any idea how much trouble this could cause you, Damien? I’m an AM director now, you’re--”

_ “God, _ shut up! Just  _ shut _ up! You know what? Fine. I’ve decided how I want to finish proving my point.”

“And how would that be?” she spits angrily.

He takes a few more steps towards her. She doesn’t want to move away.

“You were a real jerk to me. I know you know that. You liked it when I was under your control, when I was just a hollow  _ puppet. _ You twisted bitch.”

“Jesus, Damien. Are you telling me  _ you _ haven’t enjoyed controlling people your whole life? I know it’s had its downsides, but let’s not  _ pretend-- _ ”

_ “Be quiet.” _

He doesn’t really want her to shut up, though. No, if he did, she wouldn’t be talking to begin with. He wanted to know what she really thought and now he’s angry that he got what he wished for. However that doesn’t matter much right now, she can’t say anything when his hand wraps tightly around her throat, followed quickly by the other one.

She gasps for breath and his grip tightens. She tries to wheeze out a plea, ask him to stop, but finds that she doesn’t want to.  _ Now _ she wants to be quiet.

“There you go, finally shutting the fuck up,” he says calmly. Her vision is starting to blur just a little. She makes no move to fight back at all. She doesn’t want to resist him. She just wants to let him choke her, make her shut her damn mouth and  _ hurt her. _

Finally, just as she’s beginning to think she might pass out, he throws her roughly back against the bed. She falls back like a ragdoll, panting and gasping, trying to make her head stop spinning.

The blood rushing to her head feels  _ hot _ and the collar of her shirt is starting to bother her and she wants to take it off. She’s not even thinking when her hands move to the top button, not thinking until she’s unbuttoned halfway down the shirt. Not thinking until she realizes that this desire isn’t hers and that it doesn’t end with the shirt.

“Damien…”

“Yes, doc?”

“What are you doing?” she asks shakily as she discards her shirt and reaches her hands behind her back to unhook her bra.

  
“Showing you how much  _ control _ I’ve gained. Aren’t you proud of me, Dr. B?”


	2. Chapter 2

She freezes. Or rather, she  _ wishes _ she could. Because while her mind may be drawing a blank on ways to respond, to talk herself out of this, her hands are still fumbling around behind her. “I’m fairly certain I remember you telling me once that you’d never use your ability for--”

She tries to ball her hands up. To form fists behind her back and prevent her fingers from doing what her mind is telling them to. It’s no use though, no matter how hard she tries to resist, she still  _ wants _ to undo the clasp, to let her bra fall to the floor and to expose herself for him. She wants to let him stare at her and touch her and do whatever he pleases.

“I don’t like it when I don’t know if it’s real. But y’know, I’m starting to think that only applies when I actually  _ like _ the person. Maybe here, the appeal is that I really  _ don’t _ want you to enjoy this.”

He moves in further, cupping her bare breasts roughly in his hands before pushing her back against the mattress. Her damned hands are still doing his bidding, reaching down to slide off her skirt and her underwear as he looms over her, smirking.

“You ruined my fucking life. Now I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

She feels tears start to run down her face as he climbs over her, undoing the zipper on his jeans.

_ It’s going to hurt. _ That realization comes to her a lot slower than it should. But she is very decidedly not aroused right now, he likely doesn’t have any lubricant given this apparently wasn’t his plan, and she’s certain he has no intention of trying to orally stimulate her. If he tries to fuck her now, it’ll more than hurt, it’ll likely injure her.

She watches him pull his dick out. He’s hard and crouching over her and, well, he’s not exactly small. This is going to hurt a lot.

She makes a decision.

“Damien?” she asks, her voice smaller than she intends it to be.

“What?” he snarls as he begins prying her legs apart.

“Can you-- I want…” here goes nothing. “Let me go down on you.”

There’s a long silence.

_ “What?” _

“I want to take you in my mouth,” she answers, trying to sound calm.

_ “Why?” _

She doesn’t have time to form a response before what he wants--  _ the truth-- _ comes spilling out. “I want to get you wet so that it will hurt less,” she squeaks fearfully.

He looks down at her, thinking. He’s considering it.

“Yeah. Alright. Since you said please.”

She didn’t. She didn’t say-- oh.

“Please,” she spits out. She feels Damien’s want guiding the rest of her words. “Please, I want you in my mouth. Please, Damien.”

She wants to bite her own tongue off.

He snorts. “Wow, Dr. B. If that’s what you were after this whole time, all you had to do was ask.” She doesn’t respond, only opens her mouth as he begins to move up a bit, sticking himself right in front of her face and causing her to feel sick. “Fucking slut,” he murmurs as he lowers himself in.

He pushes all the way in all at once, pressing right up against the back of her throat and causing her to gag.

“Oh, shut up,” he groans. She  _ wants _ to stop gagging. She wants to lay back and be quiet for him, but unfortunately his ability has no control over her body’s actual natural reactions. He holds himself in the same place for a few seconds, long enough to make her feel like she’s choking, like she can’t breathe, before pulling up a bit.

To her surprise, he pulls out completely, letting her take a moment to gasp for breath. It’s only a second before he shoves back in, though. This time, he starts  _ thrusting. _ He pushed into her repeatedly, fucking her face hard and fast. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut, that feeling in her throat and her stomach that she’s about to  _ throw up _ only worsened by the feeling of his balls smacking against her face as he thrusts downward.

She feels disgusting, if the pain isn’t enough. She feels gross for taking it, for the fact that he’s seeing her naked, _touching her,_ _using her._ Most of all, she feels disgusting for having asked for this.

She knows she did it in the interest of self preservation but the sound of Damien calling her a slut isn’t leaving her head any time soon.

After what seems like forever, he pulls out. “There, look.” He speaks over her as she once agains gags and gasps to catch her breath. He presses his cock against her face, rubbing her own spit all over her. “Nice and wet. Happy?”

She nods, hoping it’ll get this over with.

“What do you say?” he asks, his hand wrapping around her neck again, not as tightly as before. He’s not choking her yet, it’s just a  _ threat. _

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Good girl,” he smirks. “You sure you don’t want this, Dr. B?” He moves back slowly, reapproaching her legs that she hadn’t even realized she’d started to spread. He lines himself up in front of her and she squeezes her eyes shut tighter, bracing herself. “Because I think you’re behaving a lot like…” he pushes in. She winces. “A needy. Little. Slut.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust, causing her to let out a small whimper.

She grips tightly to the sheets below her and tries hard not to keep crying, to keep her breathing steady.

She succeeds in one regard, at least. She’s always been good at steady breathing, what with all the breathing exercises she does with patients. While she’s able to focus on slow, deep breaths, in and out at a normal pace, the tears are still rolling down her cheeks and Damien is thrusting harder.

It still hurts like hell. Logically she knows it would have been worse had she not… But still, with the amount of pain she’s experiencing right now, she  _ really _ doesn’t want to even think about what ‘worse’ might be.

Thankfully, her body is starting to react. To cooperate. She’s starting to get wet, which is lessening the pain a bit.

She opens her eyes. She wants to look at him. She wants to  _ watch _ him rape her. Take away whatever power she may have had left in this dynamic.

No.  _ He _ wants her to watch.

She may not be in the best position to think clearly right now, but that’s something she wants to keep track of. Distinguishing his wants from hers. It may be easy at times, with things like this, but she’s still going to stay cautious. She has to let him put things in her head, there’s no fighting that. But she’s not going to let him convince her that they’re hers, that they  _ belong there. _

She really can’t tell how long it takes for him to come, but she can tell it’s about to happen. She hears his breath hitch and watches his fall back into an expression that’s practically cartoonish as he moans.

She can feel his want to come inside her. For a second that want is hers, and she feels disgusted with herself. But she tries, however unsuccessfully, to push the thought from her mind. To focus on staying calm and focused on finding a way out of this.

Besides, she has a dreadful feeling that that’s not the most disgusting thing he’ll be wanting her to want.

No, that cruel look in his eye leaves her with the impression that he’s just getting started.


	3. Chapter 3

“There, that wasn’t so bad was it?”

She doesn’t say anything. She can feel his cum inside her still after he pulls out. There’s a throbbing pain between her legs still that she’s trying to block out.

“Now…” he starts, smirking. “What are we gonna do to you next?”

“Haven’t you already proven your point?” she asks quietly. Frankly, she hates how absolutely weak she sounds, what little protest comes through in her voice.

“Oh we’re just getting started, Dr. B.” She can feel his hand beginning to press between her thighs, rubbing his fingers against her slowly, making her squirm. He finds her clit, pinching down hard and causing her to jerk a bit.

“Please… please don’t.”

He ignores her, pulling his hand away and reaching up to her chest. He squeezes her nipples hard, tugging at and twisting them. “Now, how about you apologize?” He gives one of her breasts a hard slap before continuing. “Tell me how sorry you are.”

She whimpers from the pain before feeling his want push into her head. She wants to apologize for not helping him. She wants to apologize for being a controlling, manipulative bitch, and she wants to offer to  _ make it up to him _ by letting him do a number of disgusting things to her that she would never have wanted in any other circumstance.

“I’m sorry,” she says, unable to resist the urge any more. “I’m sorry for being such a bitch. I’m sorry I wasn’t better.”

“There you go,” he smirks. “Good to finally hear, Dr. B. Now how about you make it up to me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Attagirl. Get down.”

She’s barely even cognizant of answering him and only beginning to gain her sense a bit as she finds herself kneeling. His ability has never felt like this. She’s always been  _ aware _ of the want. There have been occasions where she hasn’t been able to detect its source, but never where she had simply found herself doing something without the urge preceding it.

She can’t tell if this is his ability evolving or if this is her blocking things out, operating on autopilot and trying to prevent herself from having to  _ think _ about anything he’s making her do.

“Open.”

She glares back up at him.

He slaps her in the face.  _ Hard. _ “I said  _ open.” _

  
She feels his want pushing into her head, she wants to open her mouth. She wants so bad to give in and open up for him. Between his ability and the pain, she feels so  _ weak. _ She doesn’t want to fight anymore.

She opens her mouth, preparing for the unpleasant sensation of having him thrust down her throat again. What she isn’t prepared for is the sudden stream of hot liquid in her face.

She closes her eyes and mouth on reflex, but he appears to have taken advantage of her weakness, as he’s willing her mouth back open instantly. She nearly chokes as his piss hits the back of her throat. Either he’s not aiming well, or the mess is deliberate, because she can feel him spraying all over her face and her chest.

“You like this, don’t you? Go on, swallow.”

She does as he says. The pathetic part is that he barely needs to use his ability. She just wants this to be  _ over with. _ Maybe this is the last point he has to prove. Maybe he’ll be  _ done _ after this.

Then again, she can see wishful thinking for what it is.

He stands up as he finishes, kicking her in the side as he does. She notices how he avoids making eye contact with her.

There’s something bitter and petty inside her screaming  _ coward. _ He’s going to take this as far as he can because he feels like he has to and he’s not going to be able to look her in the eye for any of it.

As he begins to walk away, he turns away from her as quickly as possible.

_ Coward. _

She thinks she’s earned the bitterness and the pettiness.

“I’m going out for a bit, don’t fucking think about trying anything, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

She watches him pick up her clothes from the floor and the bed where they’d been strewn, balling them up and tucking them under his arm. He heads for the door, grabbing his keys and adding awkwardly as he leaves, “you can shower if you want.”

He leaves before she fully realizes it.

She’s still on the floor. She’s still on her knees. Her face is still soaked with piss and tears, her cunt still  _ hurts _ , and now that Damien’s gone, she can’t feel herself wanting any of it. All that’s left is the pain and the shame and the utter disgust.

A shower might be a good idea.


	4. Chapter 4

She stands after he leaves, taking a few steps towards the other bed in the room and stopping in between them to get a glimpse at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s about half past four. If what he says is true and abducted her after she’d stopped to get her morning coffee before work, she'd have been unconscious for around eight hours. She wonders how much of that time he’d spent driving and how much of it was spent in this motel room. She wonders  _ where she is. _ How many hours away from the city he’d taken her and in which direction.

She’s sure Sam and Owen are worried she didn’t show up for work, though frankly she’s not sure how much good that does her. There isn’t much they can do to find her and even if they do, escaping Damien with his powers working at full capacity won’t exactly be easy even with their help.

She entertains the notion of leaving.

She  _ could. _

The only issue there lies in the fact that he’d left with her clothes balled up under his arm, what she’s sure he thinks would be a surefire way of preventing her from leaving.

He’s right.

She could grab a towel or a bedsheet, wrap it around herself, and just  _ run, _ but he knows she won’t. If she were to do that it wouldn’t be long before someone stopped her. In which case she would be given the opportunity to explain her situation which would lead to having to omit certain details and to the involvement of law enforcement which probably wouldn’t go well. She could go to the front desk of the motel and ask to use a phone, she could concoct some tame story about a consensual partner playing a cruel prank by stealing her clothes, ask to call a friend to pick her up but well, however long it would take someone to get to her, she’s sure it would take less time for Damien to return and find her in the midst of an escape attempt, which she’s sure wouldn’t go over well.

So instead she does as he said and makes her way to the bathroom. It’s probably best that that’s the choice she makes. However likely people may or may not be to help a naked woman, she’s sure that likelihood would go down by a quantifiable amount should that woman look and smell like… well, like she’s just been pissed on.

She ignores the slight pain that walking causes, stepping into the shower and turning it on, she cranks it up to the highest temperature and stands in the cold for a few seconds as she waits for the water to heat up. It’s frigid to start out with, but it still feels like a relief. She tries to take a few deep breaths, unwrapping the small bar of soap in the shower as she does. Once she’s certain her breathing is steady, she holds her breath, closes her eyes, and tilts her head up under the stream of water, now growing to be scalding hot. She blindly reaches up, scrubbing at her face with the soap, trying to erase every trace of him from her skin.

After a while, she’s sure there can’t be anything left. No, it all has to be gone by now, right? Logically, she knows it should be, but there’s a very real difference between physicality and sensation. There may be nothing there but she can still  _ feel _ his urine coating her face. She ignores the same disgusting feeling of his lingering touch that exists on her chest and between her legs, still focused on the object at hand. She ignores the sting of the hot water and the irritation she’s sure her repeated scrubbing is causing and she keeps going.

She scrubs at her face until the water is no longer hot. Somewhere along the way she had started crying.

She gives up after a while, she’s done the best she can. She doesn’t think that feeling is going to be going away anytime soon. She starts to scrub at the rest of her body. She scrubs and scrubs until she feels a bit more like she can breathe again. The water is near-freezing by the time she turns it off and as uncomfortable as it is, it’s somehow calming.

She wraps a towel around herself tightly after drying off. She can hear the TV through the door, confirming, much to her dismay, that Damien had returned. She opens the bathroom door slowly and steps back out into the room. Something she really can’t place and really couldn’t care less about is playing on the TV and there’s a McDonald’s bag sitting on the bed she’d woken up on.

She sits down on the edge of the bed, trying not to think about what had happened on it earlier. Damien is sat on the opposite bed, reclining comfortably and staring at the TV as he stuffs a handful of fries into his mouth. She opens the bag, pulling out and unwrapping a cheeseburger. She doesn’t realize that she’s hungry until it’s in front of her, but now that she’s been reminded of her own needs, they’re making themselves incredibly aware.

“I didn’t say you could eat,” he remarks half heartedly as she bites into her food. She doesn’t feel the urge to stop. He must not care enough. She finishes her food, feeling only really half-tuned into reality.

She feels a dread set in at feeling his want only a split second after the feeling makes itself known. She doesn’t resist the initial desire to stand or to make her way over to his bed. She  _ does _ resist what comes next. She watches Damien fumble around with the bag on the nightstand next to him, producing a bottle of lube from it.

“Happy?” he asks, tossing it to her with an almost bored sneer.

She catches it reflexively, but doesn’t respond. He begins to pull off his jeans, leaving his boxers on and looking up at her smugly. He knows she’ll do what he wants eventually. She can feel what he wants. She can feel the urge to crawl onto the bed, cover his cock in lube, and sit in his lap and ride him while he watches the TV. She feels the want wrapping itself pervasively around her mind, gripping like a vice, until it’s all that she can think about.

Slowly, she gives in.

“Attagirl,” he smirks as climbs into the bed. She pours some of the lube onto her hand and Damien reaches down, pulling his cock through the fly of his underwear. She starts to stroke him slowly and it doesn’t take long for him to harden under her touch. She continues to coat him with lube, delaying and trying to make better the inevitable, until she feels her want--  _ his want-- _ start to shift. “That’s enough,” he says firmly, beginning to push the thought. She feels herself compelled to climb onto his lap. To lower herself over his cock and to use herself to please him. She hates this. Not only is he turning her into a  _ plaything _ , he’s making her want it.

She doesn’t even realize she’s resisting until he grabs her by the arm, yanking her towards him. “Come on,” he snarls.

Jolted out of her thoughts by his touch, she feels a spike of fear. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. She’s not even sure he was willing her to do that. It’s her basic fear response to be compliant. That combined with the want he’s forcing onto her leaves her with little other room in her head for thoughts of resistance. Slowly and with a deep inhale, she moves in closer to him, settling herself in over his legs as he lines himself up with her entrance. She lowers herself down, sitting in his lap and feeling him penetrate her, pushing in deep as she settles in.

Once she’s on him, the panic sets in, outweighing the want. She can feel him in her. She can feel his clothes against the humiliating bareness of her skin. She feels exposed and she feels terrified. She tries to pull away and only barely moves a muscle before he wraps his arms and around her waist, pulling her closer to him and back into place. He gives a quick thrust up, eliciting a whine from her.

“Come on, Dr. B., stay still. I can always make it hurt more if you’re not good.”

She stays quiet and stays still. He apparently doesn’t want her to do anything. She’s fucking  _ cockwarming _ for him. She feels sick.

He remains inside her as the television plays in the background. She tries to focus on it, on anything besides what’s happening to her, but can’t feel her thoughts seem to zone in on anything. She tries to find something to focus on, an object in her line of sight to direct her attention to, but her head can barely seem to stay in the room. She feels herself shutting down as her mind tries to distance herself from the feeling of him inside her.

She’s not sure how long he has her there, but when she snaps back to reality, the TV is off and his hands are on her breasts. His ability is what draws her back to her senses. She wants to ride him. The room is dark without the light of the television and Damien looks just as tired as she is. This has to be it for now. After this, she can hopefully be fucking done.

She doesn’t resist. She wants it to be over. She’s too exhausted to fight his ability even if she wanted to. She turns to face him and slowly begins to move up and down. Her breasts begin to bounce as she speeds up and she can feel his eyes on her. She continues to quicken her pace, moving into a steady pattern of bouncing up and down, fucking herself on his cock.

He lets out several small noises as she moves. Moans and groans and grunts, each one seeping into her head and staying there, causing a spiral of shame. “I think… this is the best decision I’ve ever made,” he moans. She squeezes her eyes shut and speeds up, trying to get through this without focusing on what he’s saying. He continues to speak regardless, periodically interrupting himself with his own panting. “I could keep you like this forever. Just…” his breath hitches. “Just keep you with me for as long as I want, making you…  _ fuck,” _ he moans. “Making you serve my fucking cock whenever I want. Turn you into my good fucking cockslut.” She feels his hands grip her thighs as his breaths get more hurried. His moans get less and less controlled and she grimaces, preparing herself for what she knows is about to happen.

The tears she’d been holding back come streaming down her face as he comes inside her for the second time that day. For a moment, he’s silent. He’s still inside her, his hands still holding her in place as she begins to cry as silently as possible, not wanting to give him any reason to continue tormenting her. “But…” he begins, still panting just a little. “You already are my good fucking cockslut, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she responds, her voice shaking. That must not be good enough. His want is still pushing into her head, urging more out of her. She says it through gritted teeth. “I’m your cockslut.”

“There you go,” he smirks. “Good job. Fucking whore.”

She doesn’t respond, only remains still on him until he releases her, physically and mentally.

“Go clean up, I’m going to sleep.”

She does as he says, pulling away from him and stumbling off the bed. She keeps her legs closed as best she can, not wanting him to drip down her legs as she makes her way to the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

When she comes back out of the bathroom, the light is on and Damien is standing by her bed.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” she grumbles.

“I am, once you go to bed.”

She doesn’t need to be told to get on the bed, but once she sits down on it she can feel the invasive want pressing in and making her lay back, as though she wouldn’t have to begin with. As she gives in, she reflexively raises her hands above her head.

“Good girl.”   
  
She hates that phrase.

He reaches over to the nightstand and she follows his hands with her eyes, gaze landing on a pair--no, a  _ pile-- _ of handcuffs that have been laid out. He picks up one of them and swiftly cuffs one end to her wrist. She doesn’t struggle as he chains her to the bedpost. He does the same to her other wrist and both ankles, finding a place to chain all of her limbs. She feels uncomfortably spread and stretched, but thankfully not so much so to be painful. Still, she finds it hard to fathom that she’ll be getting much sleep like this.

Apparently he isn’t done. She watches him reach for a shopping bag and the bottle of lube from his bed, apparently more he’d “bought” while out earlier. From the bag, he pulls out two dildos.

He presses two fingers into her and wiggles them around, watching her squirm and strain against her restraints. After a few seconds, she feels him pull out of her now-wet cunt and watches, bracing herself as he slips one of the dildos in. He pushes it in all the way. It’s small enough in length to fit in neatly when he presses it in, but still wide enough to make her whine with discomfort. The next one is smaller, but given where she’s sure it’s going, that isn’t much of a comfort.

He picks up the lube and lathers the remaining dildo with it, thankfully making sure it’s slick before he presses it roughly into her ass. She lets out a yelp.

She watches with horror as he turns back to the bag and begins digging through it again. She may not have had sex in, well, quite a while, but she knows her stuff well enough to recognize what he’s pulling out as a clit clamp. She takes a deep exhale and leans her head back onto the pillow as he pulls apart the folds of her skin, pinching at her clit before slipping the clamp on, following it up with a pair of nipple clamps connected by a chain. He flicks the first clamp, listening to her whines give way to moans. He then reaches up and yanks on the chain connecting her nipples. She yelps again, the overstimulation pushing her to tears for what feels like the tenth time that day.

“Little slut. Bet you love being stuffed full, don’t you?”

She gives a short nod and doesn’t respond, knowing by now it’s best just to indulge him.

“What was that?”   
  
“I love it,” she mumbles bitterly. “I-- I love being stuffed full.”

“Bet you wish it was my cock in you.”

“I do,” she forces the words out of her throat,  _ grateful _ for Damien’s ability guiding her through it.

“Good,” he spits, smirking down at her. “Tomorrow I’ll make you beg for it.” He goes to turn the light off and walks back towards his bed, leaving her chained down, clamped, and stuffed on hers.

She closes her eyes and tries, to what she’s sure will be of little avail, to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Fiona Apple song "Red Red Red".


End file.
